“How do you feel, Tom?” demanded the veteran, as they sprang into the line.
“All right,” replied Tom, with a forced buoyancy of spirits.
“Are you sure, my boy?” continued the veteran, gazing with deep anxiety into the face of the sergeant.
“I’m first rate, uncle. I think I can stand it as long as any body else.”
“You have done wonders to-day, Tom. I’m proud of you, but I’m afeared you are doing too much. If you are used up, it wouldn’t be any disgrace for you to go to the rear. After what you’ve done, nobody will say a word. Don’t kill yourself, Tom, but go to the rear.”
“I go to the rear!” exclaimed Tom, with indignation.
“If you are disabled, I mean, of course,” apologized the veteran.
“I’m not disabled. If I go to the rear with these socks on, it won’t be till after the breath has left my body.”
“Socks!” replied Hapgood, with a sneer. “I’m afeared that gal will be the death of you.”
“I don’t sulk in these socks,” replied Tom, with a faint smile, as the regiment moved off on the double quick to some new position of peril.